I don't know what to say -

- except thanks to Ann Regentin for this incredibly special Very Bloody Marys review. Check out the whole thing at the always great Erotica Readers & Writers Association site, but in the meantime here's an excerpt:

I don't review books very often. In fact, it might be better to say that I don't review books at all, and the reason is that I'm very picky. I spent a few years reading them for money—yes, you can do that if you're in the right place at the right time—and as a result, nothing surprises me. I don't care what plot or character you throw at me, I've read it before somewhere else.

Murder mysteries are the worst because I used to read them obsessively, and good ones, too, like Rex Stout, Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. Unless the characters or setting really grab me, it usually takes three chapters to figure out who the killer is. A quick check to the end, and I'm done. I also don't much care for vampire stories, mostly because I don't find cold immortality particularly sexy. I prefer my heroes warm-blooded and human.

So what the heck was I doing reading a book called The Very Bloody Marys (Harrington Park Press; May 1, 2007), a gay vampire murder mystery? Even weirder, why couldn't I put it down?

Okay, I did put it down from time to time. I had to eat, shower, sleep, take care of my kid, that kind of thing, but for the most part, I read because in spite of covering two of my least favorite genres, it was a damned good book ....

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